Chaotic Pink
Let the zephyr blow.
The title probably will change, so "Loss and learning" will probably be a working title.
Here the idea for the story.
She died. Over come with grief, her husbands life turns to dispare. He does not speak of her, and in turn, doesn't allow himself to mourn. He turns to keeping a diary to keep his thoughts, memories and feeling alive.
Generally about someone grieving and how they cope.
Heres the extract I've written:
A man, mid-thirties, stood with his back to everyone else. His grey suit was stained with tears down the front and his hair was messy, far too messy for a funeral. He hung his head low, so that his kneck had arched in a painful bend. Out of his eyes streamed waterfalls, in his head an orchestra sounded and in his heart, well, his heart felt as if it had been taken out, stamped upon and chucked back in, but in the wrong place.
Everyone else stood by the open grave, staring out into space, others staring into the 6ft hole. No one spoke. The only sounds were the sobs of the 30 something man. No one said anything to comfort him, they didn't need to, they just let him be.
The oak coffin was lowered into the ground, slowly at first, then picking up speed. The vicar started his serman as the coffin lay flat onto the ground.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."
He held a box, full of soil out to the man. He didn't take it, instead he shook his head and walked away. Hurriedly the vicar sprinkled some soil over the coffin and left the rest. No words were exchanged as he formed the sign of a cross over himself and departed.
The man who had walked off earlier stopped at the edge of the church yard. He turned and shouted "Goodbye, forever." He left he grounds and walked away down into the streets.
The day was too nice for a funeral. It was bright, very bright, the sun shone high in the sky and as far as the eye could see where were no clouds, only blue skies lasting forever.
*
He whispered it under his breath, "Goodbye." Until the word annoyed his so much he screamed.
"I hate her! I wish I'd have never met her!" He was left panting for breath at his sudden outburst. People on the other side of the highstreet stared back at him, then noticing him glaring at him quickly looked away. They probably though he was a psychopathic lunatic. Let them! He thought.
Racing down the street, tears steamed for the second time that day.
*
She had died in her sleep, after suffering with a long term illness. He had been with her throughout. He was the only one to wait with her when her family disowned her. He had prayed until the early hours, yet that hadn't stopped her. Robert resented her for this, he hated her for deserting him. Putting everything he had on the line for her, he had now lot his family, his money and his trust. Everything for someone who gave up so easily.
Robert sat in the front garden of his house he could no longer afford. Every last penny had gone into her treatment, now he had a mortgage he could no longer afford. On top of that, an empty house. He felt like giving up. He opened the front door of his house and walked inside.
*
He picked up her photo, he hugged it tight against himself. He didn't want to have ever met her, yet at the same time he did. Robert dropped the picture on the floor, smashing with it the bright enamel frame that surrounded it. She had picked it herself, as she had said "A reminder for you for when I am gone, and never will return."
There is a man, useless and no longer needed
He picked up the frame, and threw it from an open window.
He sat on the unmade bed, he began circling his finger around the swirls in pale blue and stroking the velvet material in nights sky black. For the third time that day he let tears stream down his face.
Anger swept into his heart, overcoming the grief, the pain and the sorrow, he allowed his brain to bring dark thoughts to his mind. His heart had been broken into pieces, now it throbbed with anger and hatred to someone he had once cared for.
Rob began smashing things, breaking, twisting and bending everything in sight. He swept aside a candle, behind it he found a note, it read:
For the fourth time that day he cried.
Thats chapter One!
Here the idea for the story.
She died. Over come with grief, her husbands life turns to dispare. He does not speak of her, and in turn, doesn't allow himself to mourn. He turns to keeping a diary to keep his thoughts, memories and feeling alive.
Generally about someone grieving and how they cope.
Heres the extract I've written:
A man, mid-thirties, stood with his back to everyone else. His grey suit was stained with tears down the front and his hair was messy, far too messy for a funeral. He hung his head low, so that his kneck had arched in a painful bend. Out of his eyes streamed waterfalls, in his head an orchestra sounded and in his heart, well, his heart felt as if it had been taken out, stamped upon and chucked back in, but in the wrong place.
Everyone else stood by the open grave, staring out into space, others staring into the 6ft hole. No one spoke. The only sounds were the sobs of the 30 something man. No one said anything to comfort him, they didn't need to, they just let him be.
The oak coffin was lowered into the ground, slowly at first, then picking up speed. The vicar started his serman as the coffin lay flat onto the ground.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."
He held a box, full of soil out to the man. He didn't take it, instead he shook his head and walked away. Hurriedly the vicar sprinkled some soil over the coffin and left the rest. No words were exchanged as he formed the sign of a cross over himself and departed.
The man who had walked off earlier stopped at the edge of the church yard. He turned and shouted "Goodbye, forever." He left he grounds and walked away down into the streets.
The day was too nice for a funeral. It was bright, very bright, the sun shone high in the sky and as far as the eye could see where were no clouds, only blue skies lasting forever.
*
He whispered it under his breath, "Goodbye." Until the word annoyed his so much he screamed.
"I hate her! I wish I'd have never met her!" He was left panting for breath at his sudden outburst. People on the other side of the highstreet stared back at him, then noticing him glaring at him quickly looked away. They probably though he was a psychopathic lunatic. Let them! He thought.
Racing down the street, tears steamed for the second time that day.
*
She had died in her sleep, after suffering with a long term illness. He had been with her throughout. He was the only one to wait with her when her family disowned her. He had prayed until the early hours, yet that hadn't stopped her. Robert resented her for this, he hated her for deserting him. Putting everything he had on the line for her, he had now lot his family, his money and his trust. Everything for someone who gave up so easily.
Robert sat in the front garden of his house he could no longer afford. Every last penny had gone into her treatment, now he had a mortgage he could no longer afford. On top of that, an empty house. He felt like giving up. He opened the front door of his house and walked inside.
*
He picked up her photo, he hugged it tight against himself. He didn't want to have ever met her, yet at the same time he did. Robert dropped the picture on the floor, smashing with it the bright enamel frame that surrounded it. She had picked it herself, as she had said "A reminder for you for when I am gone, and never will return."
There is a man, useless and no longer needed
He picked up the frame, and threw it from an open window.
There is a man, unwhole and in broken pieces
He sat on the unmade bed, he began circling his finger around the swirls in pale blue and stroking the velvet material in nights sky black. For the third time that day he let tears stream down his face.
Anger swept into his heart, overcoming the grief, the pain and the sorrow, he allowed his brain to bring dark thoughts to his mind. His heart had been broken into pieces, now it throbbed with anger and hatred to someone he had once cared for.
There is a man, anger consumes him in a ball of flames, twisting and manipulating his heart and mind until he knows nothing of the past
Rob began smashing things, breaking, twisting and bending everything in sight. He swept aside a candle, behind it he found a note, it read:
Dear Rob,
I am the song of birds in the morn,
The brightest of suns, the fullest of moons,
I am the wind that brushes you face,
The scariest of creatures, the prettiest of flowers.
Remember me now, in times of need. I plead to you now, never recede into thoughts of hate over me; I beg of you. If you do, I will never return, to watch over you.
Dellia
I am the song of birds in the morn,
The brightest of suns, the fullest of moons,
I am the wind that brushes you face,
The scariest of creatures, the prettiest of flowers.
Remember me now, in times of need. I plead to you now, never recede into thoughts of hate over me; I beg of you. If you do, I will never return, to watch over you.
Dellia
For the fourth time that day he cried.
Thats chapter One!
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